“Then perhapsly he would be novelist or play-right?”
“Ah never yet!” she snatch. “How could perfect Man be connected in trade with Jack London, Gus Thomas and other rough boys?”
“Yet there might be some jobs for him. He could be machinery engineer of prominent greatness.”
“Not possibly!” she reject. “Should we permit such model gentleman to build subways for political scandals?”
“But this Eugenics Baby must choose some activity of work. Shall he be too good for any profession when grown up?”
“Indeed will!” she holla. “He will be a Father.”
“Father of what?” I require with alarmed teeth.
“Of children similar to himself.”
“Miss Tessie Matsuki,” I denominate punctually while choosing my hat from table, “excuse my escape. I wish for search out some young lady who will prove her unfitness to marry by falling in love. Please excuse!”
“Uncivilized brain!” she snarrel. “Go forthly! Such depraved minds like yours drive tacks into the feet of Science when he try to progress. And yet the world do move, in spite of Tammany Hall.”